Finding Home
by Whiskey
Summary: Rachel Black came back to La Push to visit her neglected father and brother, but ended up drawn into a world she never expected. Canon.
1. Homecoming

Disclaimer: We all know they belong to Stephanie.

Summary: Rachel Black came back to La Push to visit her neglected father and brother, but ended up drawn into a world she never expected.

A/N: This is planned out as a six parter.

* * *

**Homecoming**

I'd half hoped that Jake would pick me up at the airport. I hadn't seen my smart ass little brother in person since he was 14, but he had always been a little rev head, and by now he had his license. He would have enjoyed the drive, I thought. At least the Jake I'd known would have.

So, it was with a strong sense of disappointment that I spotted Sue Clearwater by the baggage collection - disappointment and shock as I took in her appearance. I'd swept my eyes over the spot she'd been standing several times and not even recognised her. To say that Sue looked different was putting it mildly. Her long glossy hair had been cropped severely short and was flecked with a large amount of grey. Her body, while still tall and somewhat imposing, now looked rather thin and her face was far more lined than I remembered. There was something about the turn of her mouth that was different; a permanent sign of grief, I thought. _So this was what loosing your husband did to you_.

Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of Harry Clearwater. The man had been an institution over at our place throughout my childhood, cheerfully wandering his way through life, a perfect counterpoint to his no nonsense wife. He'd kept her light while she'd kept him organised. Looking at Sue now, I had the impression she'd been living in the shadows for some time.

I shook my head to clear it, and waved brightly. "Sue!" I called over the general airport throng. She didn't hear, but the very large, lanky native American man who'd been standing off to her left snapped his attention over to me and tapped her on the shoulder, pointing me out before loping quickly over to me with a huge toothy grin on his face.

"Rach!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a huge and very inappropriate bear hug considering I had no clue who he was. A bit surprised, I allowed it without objection. Then the stranger pulled back and casually grabbed my hand luggage, slinging my large canvass bag over his shoulder. "We found your bags already," he said, pulling me back toward Sue who was watching us with a slightly amused smile. "I spotted the labels. Did you just have the three?" he asked

"Er, yeah," I said, abruptly realising with an odd sense of loss that this "man" was actually Seth Clearwater who, like his mother, had apparently cropped his hair. He'd also shot up about three feet and had a voice two octaves lower than the bright eyed kid I remembered following Jake around the Rez. Had it really been that long?

My apprehension about returning home - the apprehension I thought I'd gotten under control while watching tranquil, fluffy clouds float by to the tunes of Norah Jones on the plane - returned full force as I wondered what changes I would see in Dad and Jake. It had been three years, and though I'd kept up fairly regular contact, I had routinely turned down invitations to return home, choosing to work the semester breaks and throw myself into study. It was just too hard to go back there, especially without Becky to act as my partner in crime, defending me from the plight of an adolescent brother and helping me take care of our wheelchair bound father. I hadn't actually seen either of them in person since I'd been dropped at this very same airport three years ago.

Not for the first time, I felt very guilty for leaving little Jake alone in that house with Dad. I'd got out of there as soon as I could once my acceptance letter came through, not even thinking about the consequences of leaving a fourteen year old to act as carer for a middle aged man in a chair, but Jake and Billy always got along so well, and had been so supportive of me that it hadn't seemed like such a selfish move at the time. After receiving the news that by brother had run away from home to "find himself" I'd been forced to look back on my decisions a little more critically.

"Did you have a good flight?" Seth was asking happily, apparently oblivious to my personal crisis.

"Yeah," I said wistfully, "It was … an oasis." Seth shot me an odd look. "But it's good to be home," I lied, trying to match his cheerful demeanour – _so much like Harry's_.

"Yeah, I bet," he said. "Away from all that boring study, back to the beach!"

Despite myself, I laughed. "It _will_ be good to see the beach," I conceded as we reached Sue.

"Hi Rachel," she said, grasping my shoulder firmly for a moment by way of greeting as Seth began to load up with my heavy suitcases. I took a moment to be impressed by his strength. I'd been about to ask them if they'd seen where the trolleys were, but it looked like Seth had it under control.

"The car's this way," said Sue, and I thought I caught a brief smirk on her face before she briskly lead the way.

* * *

"Home sweet home," I murmured as we pulled up at the house. It had a new paintjob, but other than that was the same as ever: small, weatherboard. I noted the police car parked outside. "They wouldn't have gone fishing would they?" I asked, suddenly fearing that I'd been gone so long that my homecoming would mean little to my Dad. It was bad enough that Jake wasn't here. "I mean Dad knew I was coming home."

"Of course they're not fishing," said Sue kindly. "Charlie's been over here every few days. He's just worried about Jake, trying to put together a search party."

"Search party?" I asked, alarmed. "Dad made it sound like Jake just needed to get away. He's not like an official missing persons case, right?"

"He'll come home, eventually," Seth piped up from the backseat. "I think Charlie's feeling a bit guilty though."

"Guilty?" I asked. "Why? 'Cause he's law enforcement, or …" but that didn't make any sense.

"Nah," said Seth. "It's just, he really kind of pushed Jake and Bella together, when Bella was seeing someone else, and now she's marrying Edward, and Jake ... well, you know."

"Bella?" I asked, mystified. "You mean Isabella? Charlie's daughter who used to play with us on the beach in the Summer?"

I twisted round in my seat to see Seth's response and found him staring at me with an open mouth. "You_ have _been gone a while," he said, and with that he hopped out of the car, stretching his long legs out (they'd been bent up in the car, even though I'd pushed my seat the whole way forward to accommodate him) and popping the trunk to, once again, lug my stuff. I reflected that it would be handy to have someone around with that kind of muscle power, and felt a light moment of envy toward Sue.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the porch and braced myself, making a fist and releasing it before pushing the fly screen aside and stepping in, freezing as I heard the angry voice of Chief Swan.

"How can you not take this seriously?!" he was raging. "He's been gone_ two weeks_! _Two. Weeks. _The majority of missing persons cases don't end well if the person is gone more than forty-eight hours!!" I wandered carefully into the tiny lounge to see Charlie glowering over Dad, waving what looked like missing person flyers around to emphasise his point.

"Jake can take care of himself," said Dad with calm authority. He was accustomed to Charlie's rages, and appeared unrattled.

"He's a seventeen year old boy!" Charlie countered. "And he needs us to look out for him! And if you won't, then damnit, I …" he trailed off as he noticed me. "Rachel," he said, regret written accross his face. Obviously he hadn't intended me to hear his ranting. "Ah, I uh …"

As Charlie stuttered uncomfortably, Dad wheeled round to face me, a look of mingled happiness and relief on his broad face. I felt relief also, seeing that he was basically unchanged.

"Sue," said Charlie, nodding respectfully to the person standing behind me.

"Charlie," she said. She glanced between myself and my father. "Why don't we help you put those up around town Charlie, and let these two catch up," she said, as Seth came in with the suitcases. He raised his eyebrows at his mother's words and I had the distinct impression that Charlie was being managed.

"Sure," said Charlie. "I'd appreciate the help." He gave Dad one last glare and nodded to me before following Sue outside. Seth gave me a reassuring smile before joining them. My eyes followed him for moment. He really was huge, and I'd just remembered that he was actually a couple of years younger than Jake. Fifteen. He looked more like the guys at college than a high school kid. The big college guys. The ones with basketball scholarships.

"He grew up," I said to Dad.

"Well he's got good genes!" said Dad. I laughed. We were distantly related to the Clearwaters.

"Does that mean Jake's approximately the same size?" I asked, half seriously.

"Bigger," said Dad with a cheeky grin.

I laughed again, but sobered quickly. "Seriously," I said, "you think Jake's okay?" Charlie's words had worried me.

He mulled it over for a moment. "I think he's _safe_," he said sadly, the implication being that safe did not mean happy. "He'll come home if and when he's ready."

"And it's about a girl?" I asked, slightly horrified with myself for feeling relieved at this. I could let go of my guilt if this was just about this Bella girl getting married.

Dad nodded.

"Kind of young to be lusting after a married woman isn't he?" I asked, trying to make light.

"She's young to get married," he sighed, repeating the words he'd spoken upon receiving Rebecca's announcement three years ago. "And Jacob's grown up fast."

I glanced up sharply, wondering if this might be a dig at me. All I saw on my father's face though was gratitude. "It's good to see you Rach," he said. He gestured to the hall. "Sue set your old room up for you."

"Our old room?"

"Yeah, there's just one bed in there now so you've got more space."

I nodded, grateful for the thought, but a little sad to think that the twin singles from our childhood had been removed. This was no longer my house. I was a guest here. I felt a sudden need to do something childish; something that would restake my claim as a member of this household. I gave him an appraising look.

"Okay," I said thoughtfully. "Out of your chair, I need it to wheel my bags in."

Dad just laughed. "And what is wrong with you that you can't carry luggage ten feet down the hall?"

"Packhorse Clearwater left and I simply can't manage on my own. Out!"

"This chair is not a trolley," he said, eyes twinkling, "but if you think you can get me out of it, you can try!" His hands were at the ready on the wheels as he prepared to dodge me.

_Game on, old man_, I thought, finally a little glad to be back.

* * *

"I thought we were to avoid the _vampires _at all costs," I said with a laugh, fixing Dad's tie. I'd fallen back into my old role of looking out for him, much, I sensed, to Sue Clearwater's relief. I was glad of that. At least I could take the pressure off the grieving widow.

He winced. "Yeah, well, Charlie's already angry enough. Don't wanna stir up the bear by missing the big event."

I frowned. "You really considered not going, didn't you," I realised. "Because of the old stories? Or because of Jake?"

He gave me pensive look. "I'm going, aren't I?" he eventually said, in an overly petulant way. I laughed again, aware he was trying to distract me from the fact that he took the old tribal legends just a little too seriously. I knew he wasn't so petty as to miss the wedding because Jake had been jilted.

The way the tribe viewed the Cullens was rather bizarre in my opinion. I still had no idea how the modern, wealthy family of adopted kids had been so completely integrated into the old legends, but like many of the gen Y members of the community I found the entire thing pretty ridiculous.

I'd realised during a conversation with Seth that he was actually friends with the soon to be newlyweds and had had to do some real convincing in order to be allowed to attend the wedding. Sue was going with him, and they were coming by in a few to give Dad a ride to the Cullen's mansion, something Seth was very excited to be seeing for the first time.

"Check the basement for coffins," I'd joked.

"Oh vampires don't sleep," he'd replied confidentially.

There was a knock at the door.

"Hey!" Seth greeted me enthusiastically when I answered. "Check it out!" he gestured at his suit, which admittedly made him look pretty dashing.

"Wow," I said. "Careful you don't catch the attention of those vampire women in that. You might end up being a meal!"

Seth snorted, but I noticed Leah giving him a death glare as she pushed past him into the house. "Popcorn and DVDs!" she announced, brandishing a plastic bag at me and heading for the kitchen. "Girl's night."

"Oh!" I said, surprised but grateful. "Sounds great." I'd assumed I'd be spending this one alone, but a night catching up with Leah might actually be fun. I'd seen her a few times since my homecoming but we'd yet to really talk like we used to. Like the rest of her family she'd cropped her hair short since the last time I'd been on the Rez, and I'd noticed that this seemed to make her appearance more athletic somehow. Like her hair had been hiding defined muscles, the sight of which made me regret spending a lot of the last three years at a desk rather than running on the beach like I had in high school. I was looking forward to getting some fitness tips from her.

"Is Billy here?" asked Seth.

"Right here," said Dad, appearing by my side.

"I have some news for you guys," said Seth, suddenly busting with excitement. "I got a call from Jake! He's coming back for the wedding."

"Jake called you?!" I cried. "Why didn't he just call the house? Or my cell?"

"Not sure," said Seth. "But he _will_ be there." The last was spoken directly to Dad, whose intense look of relief and broad smile made me reach out and hug Seth.

"Thanks for letting us know," I said.

"No problem," said Seth easily as I let him go. "But we're running a bit late so we should go.

"Don't want to miss Bella _tripping_ down the isle," Leah called acidly from the sofa. I glanced over to see the FBI warning displayed on the TV.

Seth rolled his eyes. "C'mon Billy," he said, whipping round to wheel Dad down the ramp on the porch and out to where Sue was waiting in their car.

"Don't wait up!" Dad yelled out cheekily as I closed the door on them.

* * *

We were halfway through Terminator 2 when the front door came crashing open. I leant over the back of the sofa to see who was here.

"Get off my back, I'm fine!" said an angry and unfamiliar male voice, clearly not somebody who was fine.

"Just sit down man," said the more familiar voice of Sam Uley. "Take a minute."

I stared as Sam, a few years older than I remembered him, hugely muscled and distinctly shirtless on what had to be the coldest night this year, directed an equally muscled and shirtless man with raggedly chopped hair and ripped up jeans shorts to the sofa next to me.

"Sam?" I asked, uncertain of what the hell was going on, but rising up to turn the DVD player to mute as I spoke. "What's …" then I caught a look at the ragged man's angry face. "Jacob?!" I cried incredulously. My brother was a mess! An angry, dirty mess! But more than that, he had about tripled in size! If the transformation Seth Clearwater had been through was surprising this was just … He was barely seventeen! Was he on steroids?

I could see him making a concerted effort to calm down as he seemed to register that I was there. "Hey Rach," he said, sounding rather defeated. "Heard you were back."

I stared at him. "Heard you were back?!" I asked incredulously. "You run away from home, come back looking like you've been living in a ditch for a month, and all you can say is "Heard you were back?!"

He didn't seem to hear me. "Can you guys get out?" he said rudely, presumably to Sam and Leah.

"Gladly," said Leah moving toward the door, her DVDs forgotten, "Just tell me you at least knocked some of the rich people antique furniture around when you crashed the wedding, because -"

"Just go, Leah," Sam interrupted.

She smirked at him and was gone.

"I'm coming back to check on you later," Sam promised Jake. Jake grunted. Sam gave me an apologetic look. "Good to see you Rach."

"Yeah," I said. "You too." He nodded, and with one last worried glance at Jake, disappeared into the night.

"So?" I demanded of Jake. He owed us an explanation.

He gave me look that chilled me to the bone; grief, rage and emptiness roiling in his eyes, and I quickly decided that the explanation could wait. He tured away without comment and reached for the remote to turn the volume back up as far as it would go, just as the big action sequence was starting. Bullets flying, cars exploding.

I sighed and sat by him on the sofa, reaching out to place my hand in his. He accepted the small comfort, his eyes never leaving the TV, his huge tendony hand gripping mine with slightly too much force.

Well, at least we were both home.


	2. Gangs

Disclaimer: We all know they belong to Stephanie.

Summary: Rachel Black came back to La Push to visit her neglected father and brother, but ended up drawn into a world she never expected.

A/N: This was particularly hard to write. Mostly because I didn't really have a good handle on how to write Paul from the point of view of his soon to be girlfriend. Rachel wouldn't find him irritating or irrational the way Jake or Bella would. She was very quick to accept him in the book, and of course after imprinting Paul would have set out to be whatever Rachel needed so …

Anyway, let me know what you think.

**

* * *

Gangs**

"I take it you're not interested in coming down to the beach with me?" I asked Jake, chucking him another supersized bag of cheezles and a four litre bottle of soda.

"Correct," he said, not looking up from the TV he'd been stationed by for a week, and emphasising the "t" so it became an extra syllable. "Thanks though," he added sincerely, gesturing with the junkfood.

"Yeah," I said. "Jake?"

"Hmm."

"Where do you go at night?"

He was still for a second. "You noticed that, huh?" he asked finally, giving me a charming smile that I knew him well enough to see was forced.

"Are you about to lie to me?" I asked, hoping to surprise him into revealing something.

His face fell. "You haven't been around Rachel, don't get all parental figure on me _now_."

I was immediately contrite. He had a point, of course. I tried a different tack. "Sorry," I said, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa. "I didn't mean to do that. I just noticed you were going out without telling us where you were going. You're upset right now, and I'd hate to think you were dealing with that by doing anything you'd regret later. You know, when it blows over."

"Blows over," he repeated derisively.

I patted his knee sympathetically. Having never been in love and rejected I couldn't say I understood what he was feeling, but I was suddenly struck by the notion I'd drastically underestimated his feelings. I thought of him as my kid brother (despite him being roughly the size of a house), but taking him in now I realised that cheeky little Jacob Black had been dead and gone for some time. This wasn't a junior high romance gone awry. Jacob was _really_ heartbroken.

I made a concerted effort now to see him as an adult, as the man who'd taken care of Dad for three years without complaint. It was hard to picture because I realised I had yet to really meet that man. I had little Jake in my head, and huge, angry, lazy Jake sitting before me.

"Just so you know," I said, trying to sound casual. "You can talk to me."

He stared straight ahead at the TV and the silence was deafening. I sighed and stood to leave.

"Rach," he said unexpectedly as I reached the door, his eyes still fixed on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're back."

* * *

My run along the beach was not the empowering experience I'd hoped it would be. It was raining harder than usual. My trainers were soaked through and caked in wet sand making each step a heavy squish. Rain struck the hood of my raincoat and flew into my face, mixing with sweat and making my hair stick to my cheeks. My lungs were burning, my face had to be red, and I was pretty sure my nose was running.

I really had let myself go at school.

I squelched to a stop, leaning forward; hands on my thighs as I fought to catch my breath. I then vowed I would run the length of First Beach every day until I was back in shape. Again, I thought of Leah and her ridiculously fit body, trying not to be jealous. She'd been remarkably unhelpful with the fitness tips.

I straightened up, feeling slightly more human for the respite, and through the haze of pouring rain, spotted another figure on the beach; a very large, muscled, Native American figure. In a moment of hope, I thought perhaps Jacob had decided to follow me after all. Then I realised the figure was just a little slim to be Jacob. The shape was off. Or pretty _on_ depending on how you looked at it.

He was shirtless, letting the rain spill over his very nice muscles, his face turned up to the downpour as though he was enjoying a warm shower – which immediately led to my wondering what he might look like _in_ the shower …

I chuckled to myself. I'd been alone a little too long. Chances were this was another Quilieute kid from the high school. If Seth and Jacob were anything to judge by there was something in the water here. Maybe all the teenagers were now this size.

I snuck another peek, deciding it couldn't hurt, and was surprised to find him looking my way. He raised a hand and gave me a cocky wave, obviously having caught my covert ogling, but abruptly stopped, his body going rigid.

Though his expression was obscured by the rain, his tension was palpable, and on instinct I spun around to see what had caused such an extreme reaction. My heart thudded irrationally in my chest as I took in the empty expanse of wet, rocky beach stretching out for miles.

Shaking my head, I turned back to the handsome stranger to see if I'd misjudged his body language, and found him moving my way, apparently relaxed. My heart resumed its usual pace. Perhaps I'd imagined it.

"Hey!" he called out in friendly greeting, and I realised then that I _did_ know this guy. A tall, reedy boy a few years below me in school came to mind, but I couldn't place a name to the image.

"Hey," I said, feeling my heart start to race as he came to a stop before me. He'd certainly filled out since high school, and now that I could see his face I felt my lip twitch up as I took in the long, straight nose, wide brow, full lips and large eyes framed with long black lashes.

"I know you, right?" he said, intent and puzzled. "Can I …?" He gestured toward my hood, apparently wanting to pull it back for a better look.

I nodded mutely, a bit surprised by the familiarity, but enjoying it just the same as I let my eyes roam over his smooth, wet chest. Part of me realised it was stupid to let him pull my hood down with the rain still pouring, but the thought of his hands so close to my face was very appealing, so I chose not to voice the concern.

He reached out tentatively, brushing my hair ever so lightly as he pushed the material back. The rain felt good as it started to slide down my neck, still hot from my run. His hand drifted down to my shoulder where it stayed as he proceeded to stare at my face, the edges of his lips turning up into a sweet smile while his eyes searched mine.

"I'm Rachel," I supplied helpfully, gazing back. He looked happy, and a little dazed, and I found myself smiling, flattered at the attention. "I think you were at school with me."

"You go to school on the Rez?" he asked intently, slight confusion filtering into his expression as his eager eyes remained on mine.

"Yeah," I said, beginning to feel a little lost as I tried to understand what had inspired this intense, but welcome interest. My hand reached, apparently of its own accord, to mirror his as I placed it over his prominent collarbone, the contact feeling far more intimate on his bare skin. He was very warm, his pulse thrumming against my fingers. "I mean, _no_. I _went _to school on the Rez. I've been at college for three years."

"What do you study?" he asked, apparently fascinated, his free hand coming up to cover mine, holding it against him.

"Journalism," I responded, my thoughts far away from collage. "But I'm considering a change," I added. "I'd like to go in a more creative direction." My other hand was now moving of it's own accord to rest on his very warm, very smooth chest, and a small part of my brain began to register that this was not a normal way to carry on a conversation with an almost stranger. In fact, the whole exchange was feeling very surreal. Dreamlike. The rain, the crashing waves and the sounds of surf and gulls seemed to be blocking the real world from this strangely romantic meeting, and I had a strong instinct to simply run with it. To allow whatever was happening to happen.

"This is a good place to be creative," he said, his slight smirk drawing my eyes to his lips. Large, soft lips. "A lot of mythology," he added. He was closer now. We'd been gradually moving in on each other, instinct drawing us closer. I tilted my head up as he bent down, and allowed my lips to brush his. Warmth flowed through me, from the tip of my head down to my toes. It felt right. It felt safe.

It felt like coming home.

The soft brush of lips became a deeper kiss as I caught his bottom lip between mine, and I felt him smile as he returned the gesture.

I moaned slightly as he pulled away, and had the pleasure of seeing his whole face light up with a grin.

"I'm Paul," he said.

* * *

A degree of normalcy set in on the way back to the house. Paul had offered to walk me home, and after establishing that our families actually knew each other from way back into the ancient history of the tribe, Paul was now filling me in on his recent decision to leave high school. He was eager to move out of home as soon as he could find some trade work or an apprenticeship. He wanted some experience on building sites while he figured out if architecture was for him. I listened to all of it with rapt attention, finding I didn't much mind that he was so much younger then me. His attitude was older, and I was certain he could pass for twenty five if he wanted to.

"Why don't you stay with your parents for a while?" I asked. "While you decide what you want to do."

"I've got to get away from my Dad," he explained, running a hand through his short, cropped hair. "He's always at me these days. I'll be staying on the Rez though. I'm not ready to leave yet."

"Your Dad wants you to stay in school?" I guessed.

He frowned. "Not especially. I mean I'm sure he'd happy with that, but he's more concerned about the company I'm keeping."

"You're hanging out with the criminal element?" I joked. As far as I knew, there _was_ no criminal element in our sleepy little beach town. The worst crowd Paul could possibly be involved with here were a few beach bums who smoked too much pot.

"Does your brother count as _criminal element_?" Paul responded unexpectedly, snorting to himself.

I stopped walking, surprised, pulling him to a halt as we were still connected by our hands. "Wait," I said, astounded. "Your Dad doesn't want you hanging out with _Jake?_"

Worry creased Paul's forehead as he began to backtrack, "Oh, I didn't mean … I mean, Jake's cool. It's just, there's this group of us who spend a lot of time together and some people freak out when they see a bunch of teens hanging out. Especially when they wear old ripped clothes and some of them have motorcycles. They think we're some kind of gang. It's completely bogus though, they should mind their own." The last was said in a very irritated way, and I squeezed his hand sympathetically.

"Has Jake had to deal with any of this?" I asked, thinking it was the last thing Jake needed right now. "People thinking he's in a gang?" Dad hadn't mentioned anything about it, but my mind was on the two shiny motorcycles sitting in the garage. I imagined Jake and Paul together, tearing up the main road, and I could see how the image might be frightening to people who didn't know them. Not that _I_ really knew Paul. I frowned.

"I guess," said Paul with a shrug, "Billy's pretty sweet about that stuff though, so Jake doesn't have to deal with it at home. Well, you'd know." He gave me another sweet smile and I found my attention drawn back to those big warm lips. The desire to go back to kissing him reached up from within, but I quickly forced it back; we could return to that later.

"So what about you?" he asked as we resumed walking. "You … staying home for a while?"

The question seemed quite loaded, which made me smile, and despite my having no particular plans beyond staying as long as it took for Dad and Jake to be relatively okay again, I found myself replying; "I could extend the visit for a while."

"A while?" he asked, not entirely happy with the vague response.

"Yeah," I said airily, deciding not to trap myself by clarifying further. Whatever this thing was, this instantaneous connection I felt, I knew I didn't want to scare him off by being too committed right off the bat. He was interested now, sure, but there was no telling how long that would last. He _was_ just seventeen; and was he the kind of guy who walked up to girls on the beach and kissed them all the time? I had no way of knowing. I would need to talk to Jake to get a better feel for it, as he obviously knew Paul better than I did. Maybe I could even get his mind off his own romantic problems.

Then again, misery loved company, and I was far from miserable right now. In fact I was fairly sure the elation of meeting a tall, dark, handsome stranger was pouring off me in waves. Maybe it would be best not to throw it in Jake's face.

Paul and I spent the rest of our walk engaged in a comfortable back and forth of _getting to know you_ questions - music, films, cars, hobbies. Paul seemed to hang on to my every inconsequential word as though everything about me was fascinating to him, and I found myself laughing easily as he joked cuttingly about people on the Rez we both knew. He was quite a serious personality I gathered, but cynically funny. The music he liked was angry rock, the films he watched were action and horror, he loved to surf, he loved La Push, and he'd recently taken an interest in the old Quileute legends.

"I bet my Dad would love that," I commented.

"Yeah, the council are right into the old superstitions," he agreed.

Eventually we reached the house and, loath to let him go, I pulled his face down to my level and kissed him again. "Come in," I suggested. "Say hi to Jake, have something to eat …"

He grinned again, and this time it was infectious. I found myself smiling ear to ear as I led him up the porch steps. "Alright. I can always eat," he agreed, keeping close. "Though," he added under his breath, "I'm sure you're aware that Jake hasn't been the most pleasant company lately."

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob.

"You know all about it then?" I asked, guessing the answer.

"More than I want to," he answered, rolling his eyes. He motioned to the door with his chin. "We going in?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, pushing through to the lounge where I was surprised to find that Jake had moved himself from the couch to the coffee table so he could face us and scowl as we entered, his arms crossed over his chest. It took me a moment to realise he'd heard us outside and was waiting for us.

He gave a Paul a long, hard, unimpressed look, to which Paul responded with a nonchalant shrug and an amused smirk.

Jake took a long resigned breath before turning to me and shaking his head. "There is no part of this," he informed me, "that is even remotely funny."

* * *

Paul had wanted to hang around for dinner, even offering to help me put it together, something I certainly had not objected to personally, but Jake's mood had turned so black that I reluctantly told my new _friend_ that he should come back tomorrow.

Paul seemed unaccountably saddened to be leaving, but Jake's aggressive and mysterious "Get your butt home before I dump it on the other side of the treaty line!" had eventually convinced him to go.

"You could be a little nicer," I accused my little brother once Paul was down the end of the drive, "I thought you were friends."

Jake snorted. "I think he's a little more interested in being friends with _you," _he said, turning his attention back to the TV.

I wasn't going to allow that. Not when he'd just pushed the first guy I'd kissed in longer than I liked to admit out the door with no explanation. I'd been careful not to be too demonstrative in front of him; I wasn't oblivious to his broken heart. Maybe the age gap bothered him. Now that Paul was out the door I began wondering myself if it might not be too inappropriate.

That, however, did not let Jake off the hook for being so rude.

I plonked myself down beside him and snatched the remote from his hand.

"Hey!" he objected. "What gives?"

I took a breath. "I realise this hasn't been my home for a while," I said, "but I live here right now and if I have a friend here you have no right to just kick him out, no matter how freaking depressed and entitled you might be feeling."

Jacob just stared at me blankly for a moment, then began to laugh quietly to himself. A bitter, closed mouthed laugh that belonged on someone much older.

This went on for a while, his amusement apparently feeding itself, before he finally calmed and spoke. "I was all ready for this," he said. "Ready to be all secretive and undercover." He laughed again, and the sound began to take on an hysterical edge.

"I'm confused," I said, a little disturbed and now irritated with him for changing the subject.

The laughter died abruptly, the black expression creeping back in as he nodded thoughtfully. "I think you're right," he said. "I _do_ need to get out of the house." He got up and inexplicitly pulled his shirt off as he headed for the freezing cold outdoors. "Make sure you're home around eight tonight," he ordered on his way into the rain. "Dad'll be home then. It's probably best if _he_ breaks the news."

I got up and followed him, angry now. "Breaks _what_ news?" I demanded as the front door slammed in my face. I yanked it back open forcefully. "Jake!"

He was gone.

* * *

"Apparently it's an island off the coast of South America. Alice was very excited about it. Made it sound like a paradise. Now, I don't want to know what they're doing there, but I don't think there's any reason to be concerned Billy. Hi Rachel."

"Charlie," I greeted as he wheeled Dad into the lounge, both he and the chair loaded up with life jackets, rods and unused bait. They were home early. It wasn't yet six o'clock. "What did you catch?"

"It's not about what you catch," said Dad sagely, "It's about experiencing nature it all its wonderful forms."

"So we're having the steak for dinner?"

"We are."

I grinned and went to heat the fry pan as Charlie began shedding their gear onto the floor.

"Where's Jake?" Dad called, noticing the sofa was blessedly unoccupied.

"Out," I said, raising my voice over the clatter of utensils as I rifled through the kitchen draws. "Didn't say where he was going. Just _threw his shirt off_ and ran out the door. Said he'd be home by eight … I think."

"Hmm," said Dad. "He's probably just out with his friends."

"That's good!" said Charlie, smiling as I came back into the room. "Getting out. That's a good thing." He nodded, satisfied in his way that Jake was finally moving on from his newly married daughter. I decided not to break his bubble.

"Yeah," I said. "Hey, are you guys aware that there are people who think Jake is part of a gang? I spoke to one of his friends today. He said the rumours were pretty bad." I'd been thinking on this since Jake left, thinking on how many nights he was not in his bed and imagining what he could possibly be doing. His behaviour was odd to be certain, and though I'd been riled up on the boys' behalf when I'd spoken to Paul earlier, I was starting to wonder if there might not be something more to the rumour than simple fear.

Charlie raised his brows, "They're still saying that?" he asked curiously. I noted that he didn't seem to worried.

"Do you know if anyone ever called the police about anything?" I asked, trying to sound casual about it.

"No," said Charlie thoughtfully. "Bella was a bit concerned about Jake a few months back so I had a look into things, but there were no reports. She said later she'd just overreacted. They were spending a lot of time together for a while and she was a bit out of sorts when Jake started spending time with his other friends."

"People just get nervous when teenaged boys spend time together," Dad shrugged, dismissively. "A few people start talking about gangs but no one seems to know what _terrible_ things this gang is up too."

At that moment, both their cell phones went off.

"Sue," said Charlie, as he checked his caller I.D. He hurried out to the hall to speak privately, making me wonder, not for the first time, just how close Sue and Charlie had become.

Dad took a little longer to pull his phone out, glancing apprehensively in Charlie's direction once he saw who was on the other end. For an odd moment, I thought I caught a look of fear in his eyes, but dismissed it a second later as he cheerfully answered the call. "Quil!" he greeted, then proceeded to listen for a very long time as Old Quil spoke.

I busied myself cleaning up Jake's junk food wrappers in preparation for dinner in front of the TV. He'd really become a slob these last few weeks. Then I caught Dad staring at me wide eyed as though I was doing something quite bizarre. I did a quick check to make sure all my clothing was on correctly before tilting my head in silent question, wondering if he might have been attached to the chip packets and soda bottles the way they were already arranged.

Dad shook his head with no explanation, rearranging his face as he answered Old Quil. "Sure," he said, "I can be there in a few. Chief Swan's here, he'll give me a lift … See you then."

"Going out?" I asked.

"Council meeting," he said deadpan, lifting his chin. "Very important tribal matters." As usual he was dryly overstating the significance of the council. I smiled fondly.

Charlie re-entered at that moment looking put out. "Sue is going to be busy tonight, so I won't go there after all. Tribal meeting?" The last was directed at Dad.

"Very important matters," Dad repeated.

"Okay," said Charlie with a dramatic sigh, and an eye roll in my direction; neither of us had ever taken the Council of Tribal Elders too seriously. While the old men, and now woman (I'd recently discovered Sue Clearwater had taken Harry's old place) took great pride in their confidential meetings, they were no longer a _ruling_ council of any kind, and other than being keepers of tribal history, they had no real practical purpose.

"I'll get you there," Charlie agreed without being asked. "But you're buying the next round of beer."

"Done," Dad agreed, leading Charlie back out, the pair leaving their fishing equipment in their wake.

"Be home by eight!" I ordered. "I think Jake wants to talk to us about something, and I'll have dinner done by then."

"Will do," Dad agreed.

* * *

It was half past eight when Jake pushed Dad through the door. He'd acquired a shirt from somewhere.

"You're late," I said. "I already ate."

"You cooked?" asked Jake, parking Dad by the sofa and moving with inhuman speed toward the kitchen where the scent of steak and chips was calling out to him.

"In the oven," I instructed. "The one on top is Dad's!" I didn't want him eating both plates. I'd figured out quickly after moving back in that Jake had developed a habit of eating about half his body weight each day. No wonder he'd grown so ginormous.

A moment later he was back, skilfully balancing his own oversized plate, a tray for Dad, two bottles of soda and one of my mineral water cans, which he thoughtfully threw in my direction. I tapped the lid and set it aside, not wanting to soak the room by opening it.

"You had something to talk about?" I asked him pointedly as he settled down to eat.

He grimaced and nodded, then gestured at Dad with his chin, apparently too intent on inhaling food to speak.

Dad was eying me thoughtfully, fork in hand, making no attempt to start on his steak.

"How did the council meeting go?" I asked.

"There were many things to discuss," he said, noncommittally, but I sensed from his tone that a topic of some import was on its way. That's how Dad worked. Nothing ever sounded too serious with him, but if you were listening closely you would catch on to the weight of what he was saying.

"Some of the younger members of the tribe were there," Dad continued. "Jake here," - Jake continued to eat intently at the sound of his name - "your friend Seth, Sam, and, uh, _Paul_."

My head snapped around so I could glare at Jake. I could tell from Dad's tone he knew about my romantic meeting this afternoon and I didn't imagine _Paul_ would have said anything to the father of the girl he'd been making out with for a good portion of the day.

Jake returned my glare with a cold, hard look, confirming that not only was _he_ the gossiping tattletale, but also that he was completely unremorseful about it. Unbelievable.

"So why were _they_ there?" I asked Dad. It was unusual for anyone not part of the council itself to be at meetings. I was a little put out that Jake had been invited and not me. "Is the tribe starting a youth outreach program?"

"The council was discussing _gang activity,_" Jake threw sarcastically in my direction. "They wanted us there to offer explanations."

"What?" I asked, irritated. I hadn't discussed the gang rumours with Jake yet, and wasn't even sure I planned to.

"In front of _Charlie_, Rach?" Jacob snapped. "He's the Chief of Police!"

I gaped at him. "Are you serious?" I said, this time glaring daggers at Dad. What was this? Tell on Rachel night?

"Jacob, can you give us a minute," said Dad in an authoritative tone he'd rarely used with any of us. Jake jerked slightly, taken a bit by surprise, then stood to take his oversized meal outside.

"Sure, sure," he said in that condescending way I'd noticed him use with Dad a few times. "I'll be on the porch when you need me."

I watched him go, concerned, and once again feeling guilt for leaving as I had - this time for Dad's sake rather than Jake's.

It must be difficult to maintain parental authority when your teenaged son was also your carer, and though Jake had just done what was asked, it was clear where the balance of power stood, and Dad didn't have the upper hand here.

"You think there might really be something to this gang stuff?" I asked once I was sure Jake was beyond hearing distance. I thought of Paul and fervently hoped there wasn't. The thought that he may have been lying to me earlier was more distressing than maybe it should have been. I had to remind myself that I had only just met him. He wasn't mine. Yet.

"No," said Dad with certainty. "They're not a gang. They're … unusual, but they're not causing trouble."

"I don't know," I said reluctantly. "You know as well as I do that Jake's been out a lot at night."

Dad didn't argue. "He's a grown man," he said. "And he has responsibilities."

"And that's an excuse?" I asked. "He's still a minor."

"A minor with a lot on his shoulders," Dad insisted. "Give him a break."

I pursed my lips, but didn't push it further. For now.

"I have something important to share with you!" Dad announced, a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Oh yeah?" I asked with suspicion. "Is this about the tribal meeting? You're going to share the secret business of the council with a layman?"

He nodded seriously. "Yes," he said. "The tale of Taha Aki."

I laughed and tucked my feet up under me, reaching for my mineral water. I'd grown up with these tribal myths, but it had been a while since I'd heard them, and Dad was one of the best storytellers in the tribe, with the ability to make the old legends sound truly magical. As kids, Becky and I had hung on his every word

"Okay then, " I said cheerfully, glad for the distraction. I could go an hour or two without thinking about the present day problems facing my family.

I wasn't disappointed. Dad began telling the tales with the authority of an old tribal leader, taking his time, finding his usual dramatic rhythm. Feeling as though I was being transported back in time, I allowed the old stories to flow over me, Dad's deep voice creating a whole other world.

He told the tale of Taha Aki, the spirit man; Yaha Uta, the Third Wife whose ultimate sacrifice saved her tribe; the cold ones who came to feed on the people and the shapeshifting wolf warriors who fought to defend.

I smiled as he reached the part of the story about my Great Grandfather, Ephraim Black, the alpha wolf warrior who'd made the treaty with a coven of cold ones who vowed only to drink animal blood; then bit back a laugh as he claimed, once again, that the coven my ancestor met had been the Cullen's.

"And, as you know," he continued, ignoring my mirth, "the Doctor and his yellow eyed coven have now returned to Forks, to live among the pale faces. And, as you know, when cold ones come to live so close to the tribe, the young men begin to transform."

I laughed out loud at that. "You're saying the young men of the tribe are turning into werewolves?" I glanced at my watch. How long had Jake been out on the porch? It was past eleven. Dad had been talking for while.

"It began with Sam Uley," he replied, without a hint of humour.

"Dad," I rolled my eyes. This was getting a little silly now and I wasn't sure I was in the mood.

"Then Jared and your friend Paul," Dad continued. "Embry Call … then Jacob …"

"Dad, this isn't funny," I interrupted, nonplussed. I'd enjoyed the stories, but this was taking it a bit far. "And speaking of Jacob, he's probably freezing to death out there."

"Am I laughing?" he asked, again in that rare authoritative tone.

I took a moment to examine his face. "No," I realised, with a feeling of sinking. "You're not."

I stared at him for a moment as he gazed steadily back, and it finally hit me that he really believed what he was saying. This wasn't just a myth to him. It was his reality. I'd always known that he took the old legends very seriously, but this was something else. Something frightening. Something that may end up involving psychiatrists and hospitals if no one put a stop to it soon.

"I'm getting Jake in," I said, and quickly escaped out to the porch.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Jake wasn't on the porch. He was on the lawn.

A shaggy, russet wolf with the bulk of a large bear, fur glistening with light rain and moonlight, gazing moodily at the sky with wet puppy eyes, each the size of my palm.

My hand flew to my lips as my jaw dropped and I could feel the blood draining from my face. Someone gasped. It might have been me.

The wolf had the same dead, heartbroken look I'd witnessed on my brother's face for a week.

"Jacob!" I cried, dropping to my knees as they gave out.

He moved his massive head to meet my eyes with dispassionate indifference, before returning to his stargazing. Then he sighed, a deep puff of air blowing out into the cold night, and lifted himself heavily to his feet.

He approached slowly, nails like kitchen knives digging into the wet earth. He thought I was afraid. I wasn't. I didn't know _what_ I was.

He reached the porch and leaned forward to nudge my face with his wet nose and even as I recognised it as a peacemaking gesture, I froze; instinct rebelling at this close proximity to his huge animal teeth.

"Oh, Jake," I said, forcing myself to relax and reaching up to feel his fur. "I'm so sorry."

He whined a bit and leant his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and cried.


	3. Imprint

Disclaimer: We all know they belong to Stephanie.

Summary: Rachel Black came back to La Push to visit her neglected father and brother, but ended up drawn into a world she never expected.

A/N: This was planned out as a six parter, but this chapter turned out to be very long so it looks like seven parts is more likely now.

* * *

**Imprint**

"So, it's fairly certain at this stage that she's not going to change her mind."

Jacob just looked at me. Right. Not helping.

I'd spent a few days speaking to the wolves I'd known pre-transformation - old friends like Leah, Sam and Seth, and Jake's friends Quil and Embry who'd practically lived at our house since Jacob started pre-school with them - asking all the questions I could think of to help Jacob with his heartache and to get a handle on what imprinting meant for myself and Paul.

The idea that Paul would be devoted to me for the rest of his life, regardless of the decisions I made, was overwhelming. Sure, he was hot and smart and funny and appealing to me in a way no one else had ever been, but imprinting was an intense, forever kind of _love_. A fairytale. Not something that happened to _me_ with a teenager I barely knew.

My least helpful conversation had been with Leah, with whom I'd unintentionally opened a can of worms. I'd shown up with her DVDs and some beers and found her making dinner for herself and Seth. She was home alone and I figured it was my best opportunity to get a girl's perspective on the whole business.

Seth had arrived home with a bag of dinner rolls just as I mentioned Paul's imprinting and frantically gestured for me to shut up. Leah had followed my gaze, caught him in the act and flown into a rage.

"Oh!" she cried. "We're protecting _me_ now! _I'm_ not the one going to weddings with reeking leeches, Seth! I still cannot believe you made Mom go to that suckfest! And you want to know about _imprinting_, Rachel? It's what happens when wolves lose their minds and the ability to think for themselves. You want to see it in action? Go talk to Quil! He can tell you all about how his entire existence now revolves around a toddler! Finish this up for me Seth, I need some air!"

She'd stalked out, moving faster than humanly possible, and I'd heard the distinct sound of clothes ripping apart as she'd transformed.

I'd witnessed the change from human to wolf and back again quite a few times by then, having asked Jake to demonstrate more than once (much to his irritation), but I was still adjusting to my new reality in which people I'd known all my life had the ability to become mythical monsters at will.

"What just happened?" I'd asked Seth. "What did I say?"

"You've got to be a little more careful about making wolves angry," he'd warned seriously. "We tend to phase when we get mad. People can ... get hurt."

I'd stared at him, surprised by this statement. "I thought you guys were here to protect us," I said.

"We are," he'd assured me. "But we have to channel certain emotions to change back and forth, and sometimes strong feelings, like anger, make us change without meaning to. It can be confusing ... and big, confused, angry wolves can end up ... doing things they regret."

"No one told me that," I breathed, thinking of Jake's emotional turmoil. Were Dad and I at risk?

"Oh, most of us have it pretty under control," Seth had assured me, his tone so casual that I'd put the disturbing thought aside. "Imprinting is a tough subject for Leah though. You know, because of Sam."

"What do you mean?" I'd asked absently, trying to imagine what Leah must have looked like as her anger took over and she burst out of her clothes in the Clearwater's backyard.

"Sam imprinted when he was still with Leah," Seth informed me, moving to check out the giant pot of pasta Leah had abandoned. "He left her for our cousin, Emily."

My head had snapped round to look at him. "Just like that?" I'd asked, shocked.

"Just like," he'd affirmed. "Good thing _Paul_ wasn't seeing anyone," he added slyly.

I'd smiled a bit, despite it all. "Good thing."

* * *

Jake was up now and walking around my room, shirtless, as usual these days. "She made her choice," he said, agitated. "It was her's to make, and she made it."

"Do you know when it happens?" I asked sympathetically, privately dreading the answer. The thought that Charlie Swan's daughter was about to become one of the cold, rocklike, bloodthirsty creatures of our tribal history was horrific, and if this was how Jacob was behaving _before _the transformation, what would he do _after_ it was done. He'd already run away from home once.

"No," he said. "Soon. The date keeps changing. First it was after graduation, then after the wedding. Now ... I don't know."

"If she keeps putting it off, maybe it's a good sign," I suggested hopefully. "She could be having second thoughts. I mean, I know _I'd_ think twice before joining the undead."

Fiery hope burned in his eyes for half a moment before dying. "No," he said dully. "She made her choice."

Sam had been pretty sure of this too when I'd gone to speak to him on the subject.

"She's a big girl," he'd said, lifting a stack of firewood taller than he was. "I know it's a breach of the treaty, but I also know it's what she wanted. Bizarre as that may be." He'd muttered the last, indicating Isabella Swan was not his favorite person in the world.

Truth be told, I was not terribly impressed with her either. As far as I was able to see, she'd toyed with my brother's heart for months before finally breaking it as he lay injured in bed_. Injured in a battle fought to protect_ her_ no less. _The girl was poison.

"She's not so bad," Quil had argued when I'd breached the topic with him. "I mean, she's in love, right? People do stupid things for love. And the Cullens seemed kind of okay when we fought the newborn vamps with them. The doctor even patched Jake up after he was injured. I'm not saying I agree with what Bella's doing, but when you know, you _know_. You know?"

He'd nodded toward the little girl playing in the unusually dry sand on First Beach. Claire. Quil had been babysitting; a job he did for free every chance he got apparently. Leah hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said his life now revolved around a toddler.

And I'd actually thought the age difference between myself and Paul might be a problem.

"So, are you and Paul going to get married?" Quil had asked cheekily.

I'd groaned. I'd been avoiding Paul, not sure how to behave with him, particularly after Leah's outburst.

Quil just laughed.

* * *

Jake collapsed onto my bed. "Not that I'm encouraging you to actually date _Paul" _he said, revealing once again that he didn't hold my devoted admirer in particularly high regard, "but you should really respond to one of the calls he keeps leaving on the machine."

"You're changing the subject," I accused.

"Please don't change it back," he said tonelessly.

I sighed, feeling more and more like a failure as a sister. My brother was in pain and there was nothing to be done but stay close and wait for him to heal. The worst part was knowing how much worse it would become once Isabella's ultimate fate was known. Sam had painted a fairly bleak picture on that one:

"Realistically this will end in one of four ways. One; they change her, she becomes a crazed newborn vampire that kills someone, we'll be obligated to go after the whole coven and we go to war. Two; they change her, they keep her away from humans and ... we'll _probably_ leave them be. Three; they try to change her, lose control and end up draining her dry and we go to war. Four; we find out the honeymoon ended in fatal injuries ... we go to war. Fortunately, I'm fairly certain option two is what's actually going to take place."

"Fatal injuries?" I'd asked. "You mean other than being drained of blood?"

Sam had winced. "Vampires are a lot stronger than humans Rach." He gave me a pointed look. It had taken me a moment to understand his meaning. When I had, I really wished I _hadn't_.

* * *

I sat by Jacob's head and, at a loss of what else to do, began to stroke his short hair the way I had when he was small and suffering from nightmares. "Okay," I said softly. "We don't have to talk about it." He allowed the contact, closing his eyes and letting sleep take him. He needed to escape the waking nightmare.

Soon enough he was snoring gently, despite it being the middle of the day.

Quietly, I closed the blinds and went to the kitchen to play the phone messages. There were five of them.

"Rach? Hey, it's Paul ... again. Just seeing how you are. I'd be over there but Sam said to give you guys some space. I know it's all really weird, but it'll be okay, I promise. I get it if you want to spend some time with Jake and Billy. Just let me know when I can come over. You've got my number."

"Hey Rach. Paul again. Don't feel like you _have_ to call me. I mean, it would be good if you called, but no pressure ... I can wait."

"Me again ... Paul. I know I said I can wait, but I'd just really like to know that you're okay. You know, with everything. But I can wait. I can wait ... Bye."

"Just wanted to let you know that I'm here if you need to talk. I know you've talked to some of the others, but I'm here if you need me. This is Paul, by the way ... Leaving a message. For Rachel."

"Hi Rachel, it's Paul. Do you have a cell phone? Let me know."

That was the end. I hit delete and leaned back on the counter to think. The day I'd met Paul I'd been afraid to scare him off by coming on too strong. It seemed a very silly fear now.

I needed to see him. From what I'd gathered about imprinting, he would never actually demand anything of me, but he would be upset if I stayed away too long and I'd been told more than once that upsetting a werewolf could be dangerous.

After hearing the story of Emily and Sam in it's entirety, I'd been a little apprehensive that Paul might phase while I was close. It was one of the many reasons I'd been avoiding him.

Sam had alleviated that particular fear though by awkwardly telling me that Paul himself had shared my concern and had asked Sam to give him an alpha order not to phase within twenty feet of me. Sam's orders were supernaturally binding apparently, and Paul was physically incapable of defying them.

It was a thoughtful request, even if the situation _was_ completely absurd.

The other reasons I hadn't been returning his calls were pride and guilt. My pride had been wounded by the realisation that Paul's desire had very little to do with _me _at all, and everything to do with supernatural mating instincts. I felt guilt for feeling trapped. I felt my choice had been taken away, like I was entering an arranged marriage, but in reality I _could_ leave while Paul was the one who was truly trapped.

He'd told me there was no pressure, but there _was_ pressure. Everyone around us seemed to _assume _that it would work out. Even Dad. Even Jake, who barely even seemed to _like _Paul.

I gripped the kitchen counter. It was pointless obsessing over this. Paul was the one I needed to talk to. The thought of seeing him was daunting but I'd put it off long enough.

I grabbed Jake's keys thinking I'd take his beloved rabbit and have it back before he could realise it was gone. It wasn't like he actually needed it these days I reasoned, at the speed he could now _run_.

Ten minutes later I found myself at the address Dad had given me the morning after I'd seen Jake phase. "For when you're ready." It was a small, modern looking house with an immaculately manicured garden, completely at odds with Paul's 'man of the earth' vibe.

Wringing my hands as I approached, I tried to figure out what I would say once I knocked, but as it turned out, I didn't need to knock because the door opened as I reached it, revealing a small woman with a canvas shopping bag. Despite her small build and waist length hair, she bore a remarkable resemblance to Paul, and I guessed she was his mother.

"Hello!" she squeaked in surprise, her voice so timid I had to strain a to hear. She seemed startled, as though visitors were a rare occurrence.

"Hello," I replied. "I'm Rachel. I'm a friend of Pau ..."

I broke off as Paul appeared breathless and wild eyed in the doorway. I took in the site of him with a small feeling of relief, oddly calmed by it.

"Rachel!" he cried glancing nervously between me and his mother. "You're here! Come in!" He grabbed my hand and proceeded to drag me inside. I waved quickly to his mother who watched openmouthed as we rushed by.

A second later I was in what was unmistakably a _boy's_ room; an angry tribute to rock bands and violent video games with an array of ageing posters patched over the walls.

In one corner there was old but well maintained surfboard, in another a well used electric guitar placed carefully on a stand. A new PS3 sat hooked up to an ancient little TV with discoloured patches on the screen. There were sports trophies on the bookshelf, with magazines and comics interspersed with occasional classic literature and the odd children's book. I noted a couple of thick texts on architecture lying open by the single sized bed. The unmade bedspread was a simple plush grey.

Paul, jittery with excitement, let go of my arm and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to him for me to do the same. I noted with some disappointment that he was wearing a T-shirt today.

"You really know how to drag a girl back to your cave," I commented, slowly moving to his side and crossing my legs on the bed like a preschooler.

"What can I say, I'm a traditionalist," he responded with a smirk, even as worry began to creep in his eyes. He wanted to make a good impression. There was something very vulnerable about the situation he was in. I was going to have to play this carefully.

"Tradition is good," I reassured him. He relaxed minutely, his twitchy energy visibly leaving him as he took a cleansing breath. Awkward silence filled the space for a moment as we both looked at anything in the room but each other.

"So ... " he said eventually, "you've been asking a lot of questions about imprinting."

I nodded. He'd seen my questions in the thoughts of the others of course, when they all mind melded while on patrols. The thought that they could all see the most intimate aspects of each other's lives was more than a little disturbing. Certain things were not meant for the eyes of little brothers. Jake hadn't brought it up, but I was fairly certain his negative attitude toward Paul's imprinting was at least partly due to this embarrassing phenomenon.

"Have you come to any conclusions?" Paul pressed.

I frowned at my hands fidgeting together in my lap. "Not yet," I admitted. "I have a few questions for you."

He nodded. "Shoot," he said encouragingly, reaching out to still my hands by taking them in his own. It felt good, warm.

"Do you feel trapped?" I asked, and instantly wished I'd thought my questions through _before _turning up here. I hadn't intended to blurt it out like that, but thinking of Jake made me remember his general opinion on imprinting: "It's like they can't even remember what it was like to be free!"

It was his use of the word "free" that stuck with me. Paul was seventeen. Wasn't the point of being seventeen to be exploring your options? Figuring out who you really were and what you wanted to be? He'd already been made part of regimented group of warriors through no choice of his own. Could he really be happy having his romantic choices made for him as well?

He looked at me with wide eyes, as though he had no idea what I was getting at. "In this house?" he asked eventually.

It took me a moment to process what he meant. "No," I said, once I'd worked it out. "I mean by this imprinting thing. I mean, _I_ can't really be the be all and end all for you. You must have had ... I don't know, an idea of who you wanted to be with before you met me."

I waited nervously for his response. He was taking the question seriously, mulling it over in his head, but there was a hint of confusion in his expression, like maybe I'd asked it in a foreign language. Jake was right, I thought. He really couldn't remember. And I felt ... relieved?

"_Trapped _isn't the right word," he said eventually. "I mean, you're right, in that it wasn't a _choice _as such, but I'm not sure that anyone really chooses who they fall for. And if I could do that day over again would I _choose_ to be on that beach when you came by? Absolutely, _yes_. I would _want_ this feeling. Whatever you decide now, or in the future, I won't ever regret being on that beach. Not _ever_."

Whether it was the words he was speaking or the shapes his lips made as he spoke them or the proximity of him or even the familiar woodsy scent that seemed to be coming from his skin, I wasn't sure, but I found that right then I really _needed_ to be kissing him.

I fought the urge. This conversation was important.

"But it doesn't bother you," I persisted. "I mean you don't really know me. You don't know that you would even have looked twice at me if not for the whole werewolf thing."

"I know enough!" he objected, sounding a little offended.

I rolled my eyes. "After a day together? Not even that, _half_ a day."

He gripped my hands a little tighter and met my eyes with his. Big, sincere, brown eyes. The primal kissing urge came back full force.

"I know enough," he repeated seriously.

"What do you know?" I challenged softly, leaning closer, eyes moving down to his lips.

"I know you run the length of the beach everyday," he whispered. "I know you hold your own with Jake and Billy and that you came home to look after them when things got tough. I know you surf, I remember watching you once as a kid and you were really good. I'm looking forward to doing that _with_ you. I know you kicked Jake's butt the last time he played you at Street Fighter Four. I know which of Jake's friends crushed on you when they were twelve. I know you're at a crossroads," his voice grew softer as our faces inched in. "You thought you knew what you wanted to do with your life but now it isn't so clear. I know you're tough, and smart, and sexy ... "

On the word "sexy" he allowed his lips to brush mine.

We were back on the beach - the real world fading away as instinct took over - only this time we had total privacy and what began as an innocent kiss quickly became heated. My hands went to familiar places under his shirt, tracing muscles and feeling him tense at the touch. His began to explore new territory, callused hands gripping firmly over my curves.

I climbed on his lap, wrapping my legs around him as he eagerly lifted my sweater. He then helped me pull his t-shirt over his head and throw it to the floor.

I kissed his neck, feeling his fast pulse and running my hands through his hair as he fumbled with the back of my bra.

Impatient, I pushed him back on his pillow before he managed to get it off, taking his wrists in my hands and holding him down to the bed, now feeling quite predatory. He was _mine. _InstinctuallyI knew this.

He gazed up at me with undisguised lust and I felt him growing undeniably hard beneath me. I grinned, enjoying the sensation of power, and ground against him, leaning down to nuzzle his neck as I did.

He groaned, and I released one of his wrists so that I could stroke down his chest, letting my hand rest on the button of his cutoffs, playing with the fabric as I considered the best way to get them off, moving my kisses around to his adam's apple.

He used his free hand to grab my hip, encouraging more grinding.

I got the message and started a slow rhythm against him, this time groaning with him as my lips found his.

A door slammed somewhere in the house.

"Fuck!" Paul cursed, sitting up and quickly removing me from his lap before lunging for my shirt and tossing it at me.

"Is your Mom back already?" I asked, fixing the buttons as fast as humanly possible. He reached over to help me, large, nimble hands making quick work of the job. "I thought she went shopping."

"No," he said, in a voice verging on panic. "It's my Dad. He's home early."

"Oh."

He gave us both a glance over and nodded, satisfied we were both adequately dressed, then glanced nervously between me and the bedroom window.

"Want to get out of here?" he said.

"Out the window?" I asked incredulously.

"It's the first time I've seen you since I imprinted and this is really not a moment I want to share with my father," he explained, reaching over to pull it up, letting the cool breeze blow into my face.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"We have about ten seconds before he comes in here for the daily lecture on the value of completing high school." He gestured at the window again, giving me a 'hurry up' look with his eyes.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, grabbing his hand and allowing him to help me through.

He grinned as he followed, then tugged me quickly to where I'd parked the rabbit.

"Get in, get in!" he cried, laughing now as he ushered me into the passenger side, taking the driver's seat for himself. "Keys!" he said, holding his hand out. Shaking my head I handed them over, just in time to see his father peering out the front door.

"Hey!" he cried.

Paul floored the accelerator, throwing the rabbit into reverse, his open mouthed father growing smaller and smaller as we sped backward down the drive, throwing wet dirt at nearby trees.

"Just don't wreck my brother's car!" I cried, laughing too as we reached the road and Paul spun us around to face the beach. His playfully rebellious attitude was infectious.

He didn't slow until we reached the winding ocean road, still throwing gleeful glances over his shoulder as we went.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, when he finally seemed to mellow out, relaxing into the drive as the serenity of the landscape sunk in - cliffs and clouds and drizzle and gulls.

"The longer we can hold off on you meeting my parents the better off we'll all be," he explained.

I eyed him skeptically; part of me relieved to hear those words. They seemed at odds with the whole imprinting commitment issue and eased the feeling of entrapment just a little.

I leant back into my seat, choosing to let it lie. "So what now?" I asked. "Are we driving somewhere in particular?"

He shrugged. "At your service," he said with a smile. "Where would you like to go? I'm sure you've already seen all one and a half on this town's tourist attractions. Which will it be? The cliffs or the beach?"

I laughed, thinking it over. What in this town _would _I like to see? What had I missed while I was at school? What was _new_?

And then it hit me.

Vampires.

I had yet to see vampires.

Cold, twisted, blood drinking creatures of legend had been "living" in Forks for four years; existing amongst the living, working in the hospital, attending the high school, seducing innocent teenage girls ...

They were responsible for setting off the shapeshifting gene in my brother, my childhood friends and my ... boyfriend? ... soul mate? ... teenaged toyboy? They'd caused the heartbreak and impossible funk Jake now languished in at home. The desire to see one up close, to get a real glimpse of the creatures that had turned the world upside down, was suddenly overwhelming.

I twisted myself to look at Paul. He'd been part of the recent alliance with the Cullens of course. He'd seen them up close. Looked into their yellow eyes. I would be safe with him. He _was_ a soldier after all. He'd fought in the battle against newborn bloodsuckers -the battle Seth had taken so much pride in; excitedly sharing the gory details as only a fifteen year old boy could:

"We slaughtered them _all_, no problem! Ripped 'em apart and burned the pieces! Edward ripped the guy's arm out of his body, right before he bit the leader's head clean off! Completely sick! It was awesome! They should make a movie."

"What about Jake?" I'd asked soberly, having heard he was badly injured in that particular fight.

Seth's enthusiasm had died quickly. "That was after it all," he'd said, looking slightly guilty. "And the doc fixed him."

"Dr. Cullen?" I'd asked.

"Uh huh," Seth had said dismissively, as though a vampire giving my brother medical attention was nothing to be concerned about.

"Do you know where the Cullen's live?" I asked Paul now.

Paul's head jerked around in surprise. "You want to visit Bloodsuck Manor?" he asked with amused bafflement. "I'm not sure that's a genius idea. We're really not supposed to be on their land. Treaty and all." He raised a brow at me. "Give it a few weeks though and they may break the treaty first," he added darkly.

I shuddered. "It's not the house I want to see exactly. It's more that I want to see what they're ... like."

He looked at me for a long moment, taking in my expression. I started to worry that his eyes were not on the road.

Then he grinned.

"Next stop Forks," he said, and flicked on the indicator.

* * *

Hi people who are still reading! I hope you liked the chapter. I'm a bad updater, I know, but I'm still quite into this story.

I'd love it if you would review. Keeps me coming back.


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